I did not want any confrontation. I politely asked her to relocate her hair; she apologized and did so. However, ten minutes later, her hair was back in my space. I leaned forward again, repeating my desire. She didn’t even turn around and pretended not to hear me. And suddenly something clicked within me. I decided this soaring beauty needed a brief yet memorable instruction.

She touched her hair—and froze. “What…is…this?” she screamed, struggling to remove the gum. Without removing my gaze from the TV, I calmly said: “This is the result of your arrogance.” “You’re insane!” “And you are disrespectful. Now you have two options. One option is to continue the flight like this and eventually shave off half of your hair. Two: I can assist you right now with a small pair of scissors. I have manicure scissors in my bag. “Want that?”

So here’s what I did. I will tell you, and I am curious whether you believe I did the correct thing. I slowly took three pieces of gum from my bag and chewed them one by one, calmly. Then, with a completely neutral attitude, I began quietly inserting them into her hair. Strand by strand. About fifteen minutes had gone before she turned around, thinking something was wrong.